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Swim to Me: A Novel
De Betsy Carter
Actions du livre
Commencer à lire- Éditeur:
- Workman eBooks
- Sortie:
- Aug 1, 2007
- ISBN:
- 9781565128453
- Format:
- Livre
Description
Bringing together an eccentric assortment of outcasts, poseurs, and underdogs, this wise and poignant novel conjures up a time in America when anything was possible, especially in the Sunshine State. A story of family, chasing dreams and finding your way, Swim To Me will have you believing the impossible—even in mermaids from the Bronx.
Informations sur le livre
Swim to Me: A Novel
De Betsy Carter
Description
Bringing together an eccentric assortment of outcasts, poseurs, and underdogs, this wise and poignant novel conjures up a time in America when anything was possible, especially in the Sunshine State. A story of family, chasing dreams and finding your way, Swim To Me will have you believing the impossible—even in mermaids from the Bronx.
- Éditeur:
- Workman eBooks
- Sortie:
- Aug 1, 2007
- ISBN:
- 9781565128453
- Format:
- Livre
À propos de l'auteur
En rapport avec Swim to Me
Aperçu du livre
Swim to Me - Betsy Carter
that.
PART ONE
One
The air in the bus smelled like the inside of a suitcase: stale and used. Delores got on the bus early to make sure she had a window seat. Through the opaque windows she could see her mother waving. She didn’t wave back, and when the bus pulled out from the station, she kept her eyes forward until she was on the other side of the Lincoln Tunnel. Alone in her seat, she pulled out her suitcase and unpacked Otto, who was wrapped carefully in a pair of her pajamas. Otto was a puppet with a white ceramic clown head that her father bought her the time they went to the Barnum and Bailey Circus in Madison Square Garden. It was one of the few times she and her father ever went anywhere alone.
At intermission, when he told her she could buy anything at the circus that didn’t cost over five dollars, Delores chose the puppet with a bald white head because, even though he had a red dollop of paint on his nose, he also had a rhinestone teardrop under each eye and the sad demeanor of someone pleading, Get me out of here.
Delores recognized him as a kindred spirit, and she picked him with the intention that one day they would be able to help each other.
On days when she felt particularly lonely, she’d take Otto out of the shoebox where he lived and occupy his frumpy puppet’s body with her fingers. She’d tell Otto things about school or her parents—things she wouldn’t tell anyone else. Then she’d twist her voice into a high pitch and listen as Otto told her how pretty she was. Someday, Delores,
he’d say, you and me, we’ll live by the ocean. You’ll swim all day. You’ll be tan and beautiful and the most popular girl anyone ever knew.
She would have liked to keep Otto on her lap, liked to hold on to something that was hers, but it was weird enough being alone on the bus. A bald puppet with rhinestone teardrops would only call attention to her. So she packed up Otto again, this time between her suede fringed jacket and the satin green miniskirt her mother had given her. Delores had stuffed her money, along with a return ticket and the letter inviting her to Weeki Wachee, inside Otto’s hollow head—a small comfort. His sad eyes were looking down on her. We’ll be okay,
she wanted to call out to him. This is what we’ve always wanted. You’ll see.
She tried to contain her thoughts, knowing that if she allowed herself to think about Westie she would cry. Better to stare straight ahead, holding on to the brown paper bag that her mother had packed with sandwiches and other food that she promised would keep